


Soup

by lambkt



Category: Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 03:54:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21220145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lambkt/pseuds/lambkt
Summary: Reference to some heavy stuff (nothing explicit) so trigger warning.





	Soup

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sickly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sickly/gifts).

> To my dearest sickly. Bee, you know why.

Persephone shuffled into work, pausing briefly to blow her nose into the crumpled tissue she was keeping balled up in a weak fist. With a strangled cough she continued on towards the library. _Of course_ she was sick, since things like this always happen at the worst possible time. Things at work had been incredibly busy, and Persephone felt a little guilty since it had _kind of_ been her fault, so she thought it may be ill advised if she took the day off. Last week she had finally done the thing she had been dreading, which was stepping down from TGOEM. Of course Demeter had been less than happy. 

_Homicidal_ was the right word for it.

She was at the tail end of the mass of souls that needed judgement, finally down to the last pile of scrolls. While her mother was _clearly_ not thrilled with her, Persephone managed to talk her down from her rampage. Things seemed to be looking up. Well, that is until last night when her throat felt a little scratchy. Today things were much, much worse. She was sure she even had a fever. 

Persephone set her work in a semi circle on one of the large tables in the library, settling into the chair with a pathetic sigh. She got to work, hoping to finish everything by the end of today in time for a much needed bubble bath. 

The library had to be her favorite place to be in all of Tower One. The shades worked quietly, but the scratching of their quills was music to her ears. The smell of the old scrolls, like the smell of old books, wrapped around her like a tight embrace. She felt safe here.

It was past lunch by the time she finally looked up, having been startled out of her work by the chime of her phone. 

_Ares: Hey killer! I signed us up for a kickboxing class for tonight at 8! Better not chicken out!_

Persephone groaned, pulling her wool sweater tightly around her torso. She had completely forgotten about _that_. 

It had been really nice running into Ares two weeks ago while she was waiting in line to talk to Hades. She hadn’t seen him in years, but he hadn’t changed much. Instead of a shoulder sling like last time, this time he sported a pink cast on his arm, autographed by little Hebe herself. His nose was bandaged, but clearly just as crooked as it had always been.

He knew how to push her, which was annoying, but it was nice having him around. He always had this stupid grin on his face when he told her how little he expected of her, how much of a child she was, or how she didn’t know how to handle herself. It was infuriating, and she always did her best to prove him wrong. He brought out that competitive nature in her. Persephone then loved the smug, proud smile that stretched across his face, as if he never actually expected less of her. She liked to think that he made her better, stronger. They started talking again that day and she nearly forgot why she had to leave school to see Hades in the first place. _Nearly_.

Ares had pushed her the last two weeks, waking her up early for runs and pulling her to the most ridiculously hard exercise classes. She was _sore_. She was _sick_. She sure as hell did not want to go to this class tonight, but she was also _angry_. Angry at Hades, her mother, and angry at herself. 

Persephone groaned again, fingers hovering above the keypad. 

_Persephone: I’ll be there!_

With a long stretch she rose to her feet, wobbling slightly. By now everyone would be back in their offices, so it seemed like a good time to creep her way into the break room to find some tea. She walked slowly, peering around corners first before making her way down the hallway. Persephone liked to think she was being stealthy, but her incessant sniffling gave away her position. 

Still, she made it to the break room without running into a single soul. 

The mug rotating in the microwave made her dizzy, distracting her from how much she hated making tea this way. Her small, shaking hands did their best to hold her steady against the counter. Persephone closed her eyes and rested her cheek against the fridge door, reveling in how the cool surface felt against her burning skin. 

The microwave beeped and Persephone pushed herself to an unsteady, yet upright position before finally opening her eyes. It took her brain a few seconds to process the sight of the tall, broad frame standing before her. She may have jumped if her body had been able to move that fast, but she did grip the counter again, a wave of dizziness washing over her. 

Hades kept his distance, one hand wrapped tightly around the mug in his hand, the other shoved deep into his pants pocket. A deep, concerned frown pulled at the corner of his lips, matching the expression in his furrowed eyebrows. Persephone yearned to curl up in his arms, she knew he would take care of her, but she wasn’t sure how to forgive him yet. 

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, his voice a little strangled.

Persephone coughed, using her remaining strength to gather her tea from the microwave. “Fine,” she replied, hoping her voice sounded harsher than the squeak she knew it came out as. She turned from him, heading back towards the library. 

“Kore, please wait,” Hades begged, following after her but staying a few paces behind. 

She didn’t respond, just held the mug closer to her chest, pressing on. 

He picked up his pace, gliding past her to fall to his knees in front of her. Persephone managed to stop on her toes, tripping a little in her unsteadiness, but her feet held her up, as firm as they could. Hades set his empty mug next to him and held his arms out as if she might fall. She scowled at him, taking an unbothered sip of her tea. 

“Persephone,” he started, looking pained in a way that tugged at her heart, “you’re sick. Why are you here? You need to be at home.”

She huffed, blowing a lock of hair out of her eyes. “I’m fine, really, I just need to get back to work.” 

Hades tilted his head at her, taking note of the husky tone of her voice because of her sore throat. Fortunately for him the overwhelming need to comfort the pink goddess squashed _most_ of the inappropriate thoughts he had in regards to her new voice. The others, well, he would file those away for later. 

“Listen, I know you’re,” Hades winced, pausing to find the right word, “_unhappy_ with me, but please let me drive you home? As your boss I can’t risk an epidemic. As your friend,” he reached out to place his large hand on her arm, “I’m worried about you. You _need_ rest.”

“But—”

“Kore, please. For me?”

“You’re right,” she conceded after a long pause, “but, I think I’ll call a friend to pick me up. We had plans tonight and this might be the best way to cancel.” Persephone gave him a small smile. She still needed to hit something before she could start to forgive him. 

Hades opened his mouth to protest, but after the last two weeks he couldn’t afford to argue with her. That had been the first time she smiled at him in a long time, so that would have to be enough for now.

“Can I at least accompany you to get your stuff? You’re kind of accident prone,” he joked lightly. She glared at him and he laughed awkwardly, kicking himself because now _clearly_ wasn’t the time. Hades wanted nothing more than to hear her laugh again, but stupid jokes like that weren’t going to get him anywhere. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“You’re pushing it,” she said plainly. Persephone rolled her eyes and held out her hand to help him up. 

Accepting her hand he nodded and stood, grabbing the mug from the floor, and pausing to brush the wrinkles from his suit. He audibly gasped when she tucked her hand in the crook of his arm.

“What?” she asked, bewildered by his expression.

“I just— I didn’t—,” he stammered, then cleared his throat. “Nothing, Sweetness, I apologize.”

Persephone didn’t press, mostly because she was interrupted by a small coughing fit. Hades’ eyebrows furrowed together again, but she waved him off.

“I’m fine,” she croaked.

“Fine is a dirty four-letter word, Persephone. Are you sure I can’t drive you home?” Together they walked slowly towards the library while she clung to his arm. He glanced down at her, fighting the urge to cradle her to his chest, take her home, and feed her soup until she was healthy again. He knew she lived alone now, so who would take care of her?

“I’ll be okay.” Persephone sipped her tea and considered what it would be like to have Hades make her tea, curl up next to her, and pet her hair while she slept. She shook the thoughts from her head, causing another dizzy spell. She may have actually fallen this time, but Hades was quick to steady her with his strong, gentle hands, his mug clattering to the floor in the process. She frowned at it. Hades, though, didn’t seem to notice, his eyes trained on her. 

“Kore,” he breathed, worry dripping on her name like honey. 

Persephone shook her head again, confident that he would keep her upright. “I’m fine,” she lied, handing him her mug of tea. She pulled her phone from her pocket, pressing the contact name she wanted.

It rang four times.

“Hi, are you busy? I need a favor.”

“You sound like shit.”

Persephone scoffed, looking away from Hades. “I know,” she admitted. “Can you come pick me up from work? I need a ride, if you’re not busy.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll be there in twenty.” There was some shuffling on the other end before the line went dead. 

“He’ll be here in twenty minutes,” she said, resuming her shuffle towards the library.

Hades raised an eyebrow after her. _He? Who is He?_

•

They both stood just inside the doors of Tower One, waiting for _whoever_ to come pick up Persephone. Hades’ felt the jealousy tickling his insides, even though he knew he had no right. It couldn’t be Hermes since he _worked_ here, but gods he hoped it was anyone besides that shitty little sun god. 

Persephone leaned against him, eyes closed, with his suit jacket draped over her shoulders. She looked miserable, and it nearly tore him in two. On the way down he had tried in vain to convince her to let him drive her home, but she met all of his protests with excuses as to why he was too busy. In the back of his head he knew _why_ she protested, granted bigger things have happened and it wasn’t her fault Demeter is spiteful, though he could never get her to say it. Now wasn’t the time for that, either. 

It wasn’t long before they heard rumbling in the distance. Well, _Hades_ heard it, Persephone was nearly dead to the world, even while standing. 

A large, _loud_, black motorcycle pulled up out front with a screech, leaving skid marks on the street. Persephone jumped in his arms at the sudden noise and Hades held her to him protectively, tensing as the tall god stalked towards them. He wore no helmet; his gold, wavy locks windblown, but sitting softly on top of his head with an almost permanent case of hat hair. He stood nearly as tall as Hades, his muscles fighting against the leather of his jacket. Hades tensed and the God of War gave him a wide, shit-eating grin.

“Hi, Ares,” she smiled with a crack in her voice and a cough.

“Hey, Kore. You _look_ like shit,” he observed, almost too casually.

Hades’ eyes flash red and he glared at Ares, who only shrugs nonchalantly. “How dare you,” he snaped at him, baring his teeth. 

Persephone laughed weakly at the comment, unaware of the look on his face or the restraint Hades is channeling to not rip the smug look off his face with his bare hands (since, after everything, that wouldn’t go very well). Hades gaped at her, now realizing why Ares is standing before him in the first place.

“Ready to go?” he asked, gesturing towards his bike, arm still in the pink cast.

“Yeah, I’m—”

“Wait,” interrupted Hades, holding his hand up as she began to pull away from him. “_You’re_ driving her _home_ on a _motorcycle_ when she can barely _stand_?”

Again, Ares shrugged, causing Hades’ skin to darken ever so slightly as his resolve began to slip.

“That—That’s irresponsible! She could fall!” he exclaimed.

“We’re immortal,” Ares chuckled, unthreatened. 

Hades glared at him, opening his mouth to protest as he feels a small pink hand patting his arm.

“I’ll be fine, Hades. Ares is a good driver,” she assured him.

“But—” Hades began, but was cut short when she took off his jacket and handed it back to him with a warm smile. 

“Thank you, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She turned and walked toward the motorcycle. Ares fell into step next to her, casually wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He threw his other arm up in an informal wave, not bothering to turn to witness the scowl on Hades’ face. 

Ares stopped next to the bike, unfastening the only helmet strapped to the back and handing it to her. He shrugged off his jacket, revealing a tight, white tee shirt, and held it as Persephone snaked her arms through the large sleeves. They both got on the bike, Persephone wrapping her small arms tightly around Ares’ muscular waist, first giving Hades a small wave before the bike shot off into the darkness of the Underworld.

Hades stood there, stunned. The slight pangs of jealousy from earlier now set his body on fire, and he wished that it would burn him alive and swallow him whole. He had hoped that the person picking her up would be anyone but Apollo, but maybe the way she interacted with Ares in such a familiar way made it worse. 

•

It wasn’t long before they arrived at her apartment. She had moved into a new apartment in the Underworld, just a ten minute ride from work. In fact, Ares had been the one to help her move in. It wasn’t hard, really, she could have done it herself. All she had were a few boxes and a single mattress, but he insisted on helping, convincing her that it was half his fault she had to move out, anyways. “I’m the asshole who wrote the damn speech, Kore. It’s only a few boxes,” he had argued. He was the one to build her up before she marched into the meeting with TGOEM and her mother, and he let her practice the speech they wrote with him. After that he brought her to her first kickboxing class, insisting she needed an outlet for her anger. She had never felt stronger, even now as a sniffling pile of mucus leaning bonelessly against the back of the God of War. 

Ares pulled up in front of her apartment, pushing out the kickstand with his heavy boot. Even in his heavy leather jacket she was shivering and he could feel the heat rolling off her body. He turned swiftly, pulling her into his arms and carrying her up the stairs to her apartment, helmet and all. She tried to protest, but was quieted by a shake of his head and unfamiliar softness in his eyes. Before she could read too much into it, Persephone let herself drift to sleep to the sound of his combat boots thumping up the stairs. 

This was very strange and uncomfortable to Ares. In all his years, and there had been _many_, he had never been tasked with taking care of someone. Though, this unfamiliar territory was just one more he could conquer, and that at least made it a _little_ better. 

He fished her keys out of her jacket pocket awkwardly, trying hard not to wake her, and opened the door to the small studio apartment. She had decorated a lot since he had helped her move in. Potted plants covered every available surface, really just the small counter and the windowsill, but it made the whole place feel warm. Ivy crawled up the wall, and more plants hung from the ceiling above her bed. It was clear that she had made a little oasis for herself in this dark realm. Ares gave in to the smile that crept up his face. _She is so powerful._

Ares set the goddess on her bed, finally removing the helmet and jacket from her and throwing them unceremoniously by the door with a loud clatter. He winced, but she didn’t move. After a little digging he found a sweater and a pair of sweatpants and, with little grace, wrestled them on over the dress she had worn to work. By the time she was dressed he was sweating; trying to move around her near lifeless form without waking her had proved challenging, but he wrapped her in every available blanket he could find and set to work on finding some soup. 

_Soup_. It occurred to him that he didn’t _cook_. Ares grumbled to himself, staring at the bare cupboards where there wasn’t even canned soup. _Just perfect_, he sneered to himself. He almost exclusively lived off MREs unless he was home and Hera, well, the kitchen staff, made dinner. 

It didn’t take long before he gave up, pulling out his phone and scrolling through the local Underworld restaurants that deliver. 

•

Some time later Persephone woke with a start, coughing wildly. She noticed Ares, sitting back in a pile of pillows with his feet kicked up on a box and scrolling his phone. Unphased he gestured to the glass of water sitting next to her. She took it, gratefully, and started gulping it down.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he demanded before throwing a small box at her, hitting her in the arm. “Take two of those while you’re drinking that.” 

Persephone paused, glass still resting on her lips, and glared at him.

“Just take the medicine, Kore, you’re being ridiculous,” he insisted, rolling his eyes. 

Slowly she obliged, neither of them taking their eyes off each other. Persephone was still glaring, while Ares looked back at her with reckless amusement, a smug smile on his face.

“You know,” he started, nonchalantly returning to scrolling his phone as she broke the gaze to set down the water glass, “you talk in your sleep.”

“_What?!_” she squeaked, her voice almost completely gone. 

He hummed, nodding. “Something about _Hades_?” he inquired, lifting an eyebrow at her.

Persephone’s eyes grew wide, horrified and embarrassed. “What did I say?” she gaped. 

“Oh, nothing much. You were calling out to him _a lot_. What were you dreaming about? _Hm?_”

Persephone blushed furiously under Ares’ wicked grin and cocky smile. Unable to hold his poker face any longer he erupted into a roaring laugh that nearly shook the entire apartment building. 

A few minutes after his laughter died and Persephone’s face turned back to a relatively normal color, considering her current state, his gaze returned to her, softer this time. “Listen, I know Artemis is still trying to, well, _process_ things,” he hesitated, watching her cringe, “but I could probably call up Apollo and see if he’d be willing to help. This seems like his domain.”

“No,” she spat, her tone harsh and full of an emotion he had never quite heard on her tongue. Her eyes turned a deep crimson and red thorns threaded through her hair. Ares sat up with interest, throwing his phone to the side.

“What the hell did he do to you, killer?” He sat cross legged, resting an elbow on his knee and cradling his cheek in his hand, staring at her intently.

“None of your business,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Ares didn’t miss the way she closed herself off. She was tense, leaning further away from him, and, even though she was looking at him, she seemed far away. It was a look he had never seen darken her features before. He had seen her angry, more so in the last few weeks, but this was new. 

_Hatred._

Ares couldn’t help it, he smiled wickedly at her. “Well, Kore, I’ve never seen you like this. I have to say, this suits you.”

“My name is _Persephone_,” she snapped. Her hair brushed past her shoulders now, becoming ever more tangled in the vines that grew there. The ivy behind her started to die and the rest of the plants in her apartment almost seemed to cower away from her in fear. _Interesting_. 

“Really? Because you were never bothered before when I used your old name. You know, since we’re old friends.”

The vines seemed to still a little, but her expression never wavered. Persephone didn’t grant him a response.

“Tell me, Kore, what do you have against the purple bastard? I have to say, my interest is _piqued_.” Ares waited for a response, and when her gaze softened, but she said nothing, he continued, “_crush_ perhaps?” He watched her reaction carefully, knowing full-well that he was pushing her the wrong way. She didn’t disappoint as her arms unfolded and the vines grew wildly again. If he wasn’t mistaken she looked like she was ready to _fight him_ if she needed to. _Very interesting._

“Don’t you dare,” she breathed. Persephone knew his game, he had played it before, but never crossed a line like this.

Ares held his hands up in defense, not bothering to bite back the _stupid_ look on his face. “Listen, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” the smile faded from his face, he was no longer joking, “but if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here.” 

Persephone’s shoulders dropped, deflated, and her eyes returned to their normal color as they brimmed with tears. She looked away from Ares and twisted the blanket anxiously between her fingers. Ares recognized it, finally. 

Beyond all that hatred Kore was _broken_.

Slowly, as if not to startle her, he moved to sit next to her on the bed. He wrapped an arm around her and let her settle against his shoulder. He should have before, but now he regretted pushing her in the way he did as the tears fell from her eyes onto the blanket with an audible _pupt_. 

“I’m sorry, Persephone,” he muttered.

She surprised him by laughing a little. It was breathless and pained, but it was there. “I’ve never known _you_ to be the one to apologize.”

He shrugged, moving awkwardly to wipe the tears from her face. “Well, I was an asshole. You didn’t deserve that.” 

“Yeah,” she laughed, “you _are_.”

He smiled, accepting that as forgiveness. “The bringer of death,” he sighed, smiling, “it fits you. You’re really a sight to behold when you’re angry. It gave me the best kind of chills.”

“You can call me Kore,” she decided, making a face.

Ares laughed, the sound of it rumbling through his chest like thunder. “Whatever you want, killer.”

Persephone was quiet for a while. The only thing that let him know she hadn’t fallen asleep is the occasional cough. Finally, she reached over and took another sip of water.

“There’s more than one reason I didn’t want to be an eternal maiden,” she said, softly. 

Ares hummed, giving her a reassuring squeeze. 

“But,” she continued, her voice wavering slightly, “Apollo took away any real choice I had.”

The air around them stilled as Ares took in a sharp breath. It wasn’t hard to decipher what she meant, but it broke him all the same. He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. Images of little Kore flooded the space behind his eyelids. She used to run through the grass, laughing wildly, and climb tall trees with no fear just to watch the sunset. The first time they met she had looked at him with such bewilderment, but there had been no fear there, not like everyone else who first met him. She was brave, albeit sheltered. Ares had known when she was younger that she would never be one to hide away behind her mother’s skirt, and he had feared that one day she would know the evils of the universe, but he didn’t know that it would be so soon, or in such a terrible way. 

He sighed opening his eyes finally, and wrapped both arms around her in a tight embrace. 

“Kore, is there anything I can do for you?” he asked, solemnly. 

“No,” she confessed, a lightness in her voice that he didn’t think would be there. She looked up at him then, a knowing smile on her face and red creeping into her eyes. “I’ll get my revenge soon.”

Ares laughed again, smiling fondly down at her. “You really are something.”

She beamed up at him. A weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She wasn’t ready to tell everyone yet, but she was glad she could tell Ares. 

“Are you hungry? I ordered soup, it’s in the fridge.”

“Oh! I don’t have any way to heat it up. Well, besides the tea kettle.”


End file.
